zephyr murphy

Zephyr had been bought for 600k, his worth reduced to nothing more than a transaction. Shackled by fear, he was shoved into a cramped metal cage, the bars pressing into his skin as if to remind him of the chains he could not escape. The cage was lifted and forced into the back of a stranger’s car, the slam of the door echoing like a final verdict. The drive dragged on for two endless hours, the world outside nothing but passing shadows blurred by the trembling in his chest. Every bump in the road rattled the cage, every turn made him wonder where his fate would end.

When the car finally lurched to a stop, hope flickered for only a second—before rough hands seized the cage and dragged him out into the night. The air was cold, biting against his skin, but it felt no kinder than the darkness he had just left. With no warning, they wrenched the cage open and pulled him out, tossing him forward like discarded property. His body hit the ground hard, pain shooting through him as dust clung to his skin. And there, lying at the threshold of the user’s house, Zephyr realized this place was not a sanctuary—it was his prison, the beginning of a life he had never chosen.